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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196639">Heavenly Humane</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarmthOfRain/pseuds/WarmthOfRain'>WarmthOfRain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Ask Stupid Questions (or, Destiel Being Idiots) [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's True Form, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean and Cas Being Cute af, Destiel - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fix it fic for 15x20, grace extraction, idfk what to tag bye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:22:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarmthOfRain/pseuds/WarmthOfRain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel looks down at the human, Dean Winchester, speaking of starlight and beauty and he thinks that maybe heavenly doesn’t mean heaven-made or heaven-touched. Maybe heavenly is this.</p><p>A man, in Heaven’s bounds, looking up at an Angel not with piety or fear, but with devout determination to make him understand - beautiful, however flawed. </p><p>Dean Winchester is heavenly. </p><p>//</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Ask Stupid Questions (or, Destiel Being Idiots) [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994947</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Heavenly Humane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic sort of correlates with the fix-it fic I wrote with Arsistiel. The plot is the same - Dean ends up in Heaven (sort of) and refuses to leave without Cas, so they leave together.</p><p>For the purpose of this story, the extraction of grace is different than it was in the show.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Dean Winchester finally reaches Heaven, when Castiel finally finds him again and they finally lock eyes, it’s easier than breathing.</p><p>It’s easy to imagine that this is it, the end of the road, that from here on out, it’ll be a walk in the park, as Dean would say.</p><p>But Castiel explains with a painful patience, that he would not be returning to earth along with Dean.</p><p>There is no need for Angels, for cosmic beings down there anymore. That this, however, is not the end for Dean, because that’s not how this was supposed to end, that this is the one last time in the timeline of all the times Dean is going to be brought back.</p><p>One last time, when Heaven interferes and Dean Winchester will be saved once more.</p><p>It’s not surprising, then, that Dean, the supposed Michael Sword, the one who would lay waste to the enemies of his family, the one who would be the key to all peace on Earth, the one who would not let himself be manipulated, pulled, pushed or dragged through the mud and blood, that this Dean, his Dean, would say these words.</p><p>
  <em>I’m not going back, not without you. I’m not leaving you, not again.</em>
</p><p>It pains Castiel to hear him say these words. </p><p>Not because they are exactly what he wants to hear but because he is selfish enough to want them. To want for Dean to want him. </p><p>And Dean Winchester, of everything on this Earth, would bring him to his knees and have him fall, fall, fall, straight into the darkness so he could be the one to pull Cas into the light.</p><p>Just like Castiel raised him from the pits of hell and up into the light, when he chose to touch his soul in a way no Angel ever should, laying claim to a human like no Angel ever should.</p><p>He’d paved his own demise long ago, but that’s not Dean’s fault. Dean’s only fault was exposing his own truths to Castiel in the way that made the Angel believe that what he set out for could be achieved - that <em>love</em> could be achievable. </p><p>It’s not at all surprising, then, that Castiel doesn’t need a long time of persuasion to believe every word he says, that he doesn’t need Dean to beg on his knees or shout at him until he cowers under the harsh words.</p><p>It’s enough to hear the words. </p><p>
  <em>Not without you.</em>
</p><p>The defiance with which they are spoken, the harsh line of Dean’s mouth and the determined green of his eyes that could reflect either the green of emeralds or the green of jades, depending on the light, it all takes but a second to convince Castiel.</p><p>He’s never been good at denying Dean anything and right now, he can’t deny that he would do anything, give anything. </p><p>
  <em>Not again.</em>
</p><p>When Castiel’s fingers go to Dean’s forehead, a gesture the man knows oh-so-well, he flinches, but not of fear.</p><p>There is a slight shade of hesitation and Castiel stills, his grace humming in what he knows is fear. Fear that Dean would change his mind at the last minute.</p><p>“Can I-” the start of a sentence, when Dean’s hand goes to Castiel’s arm, stopping his movement that would hurl them both towards the Earth, away from this place between the terrestrial planes and the Heavenly gates, not exactly nowhere but the at the same time, not existing.</p><p>Dean’s words stutter, catch in his throat and his hand curls around Castiel’s arm, slow and hesitant, still.</p><p>Castiel’s eyes lock with his to understand - to see if this is the last time they might meet like this, close and personal and safe. </p><p>But Dean’s lips part softly when he studies Castiel’s face, the lines and the curve of his mouth like he’s done before, but this time he doesn’t cower away when Castiel catches him staring, he doesn’t shy away, eyes to the ground and ignoring that the Angel sees and knows. He stares, still, resilient and takes one more step closer.</p><p>Castiel can feel his breath on his jaw and neck. His vessel, Jimmy Novak, who he has chosen to appear as in order to shield Dean and appear as familiar as possible, trembles slightly and he can feel the heartbeat of it pound against his ribcage mercilessly.</p><p>This isn’t the first time he can feel all the humanly aspects of being in a vessel, isn’t the first time they overwhelm him when Dean stands close enough to make out the tiny flickers of his eyelashes, long and curling, shielding the open-hearted look he is giving Castiel now.</p><p>“Can I see you?” Dean asks and he seems to struggle with words again, knowing he should elaborate, but Cas understands. </p><p>If they leave here, go back to Earth, Castiel will no longer be an Angel. No longer will he have his grace, his powers, the celestial form he’s been so used to, and has missed as it was previously and briefly taken from him.</p><p>None of it matters to him, though, because doing it for Dean, it’s but a grain in the sand. A teardrop in the ocean. His grace for humanity that he could share with Dean. </p><p>If that’s not the meaning of <em>falling</em> then what is?</p><p>But the word doesn’t leave a bitter taste in Castiel’s mouth. It elevates him, making him stronger, making him more determined. It makes him want to live and make Dean live as well.</p><p>He tests the words Dean’s sent his way. </p><p>Normally, what he would say, is this - that his true form is incomprehensible to the human eye, Dean knows this. Knows that it would burn him, his eyes and his body out of existence, that he would not be able to see or hear him because the minute Castiel falls apart, Dean would be scorched beyond repair. </p><p>But, this is the dead-end of a road and all they can do is turn back. But they don’t have to take the same route - not the same route of desolation and heartbreak, massacres and death, dark and light. </p><p>If Cas steers them right, it could be so much more.</p><p>“Is it possible?” Dean asks again and Castiel thinks back to the time when Dean was a demon. When he was something else entirely, not himself but trapped within himself. </p><p>How he could be able to sense and see Castiel, as he was. The Angel that he was.</p><p>“If you have to leave it behind, can I see it? One more time? As… Like this.” Dean says, his  voice is carried out almost as if in a void, it’s soft and low and his fingers curl into Castiel’s arm even more, strong grip as if afraid they might fall away from each other.</p><p>Castiel knows what Dean’s words mean. </p><p>And there comes a sudden realization, that maybe this is how it should end. This is how he should say goodbye.</p><p>Not to Dean, but to himself. Say goodbye to what he was. Not forgetting, but accepting and letting go.</p><p>In his mind, a voice rings, clear as day to him, but Dean stays immobile, not hearing the high-pitched frequency only comprehensible to the celestials. </p><p>
  <em>It’s okay, Cas. You can do as he asks. It won’t hurt him. Be at peace.</em>
</p><p>It’s hard to admit that the voice belongs to the one he’d considered his son. His family. The one who will make all alright again. This might be one last gift from Jack, one last push before Castiel can walk on his own again. </p><p>Castiel takes a step back, alarming Dean as the hunters hand falls away, but Castiel smiles.</p><p>He smiles and says, “Close your eyes, Dean.”</p><p>There is no hesitation when Dean obeys.</p><p>Castiel lets go, lets the vessel around him fall apart, knowing he can reassemble momentarily. </p><p>His mind stretches just as his form does, bright and blinding and glorious. His grace hums and flows and pulls at him, he can only feel the warmth, the power beneath it. He can see Dean, small, like an ant beneath him and presses at his grace, forcing it to take smaller proportions, however hard it is to contain himself.</p><p>He manages to tower over Dean, not as tall as he once said he’d be, not the intimidating height of the Chrysler building, but half of it - it’s the best he can do at this rate. His grace is uncontainable, vastly, but can be controlled for a moment in time. Just enough to make the adjusting more comfortable for Dean, perhaps.</p><p>“Open them.” </p><p>Dean does it in a second, his eyes gazing up at Castiel. The flooding light surrounds them both so that there’s nothing else to see, nothing but the blinding shine coming from Cas. </p><p>Dean’s mouth parts in what Castiel recognizes as awe, head stretching back to see towards Castiel, green eyes so alight now that they might as well be white. </p><p>For a moment, Castiel is consumed by fear, that this might have been too much for Dean, too hurtful.</p><p>But Dean shows no signs of discomfort when his hand goes up, almost as if he wants to touch the flooding light, but then lowers it. </p><p>“That’s-” his words don’t come out, they get stuck in his throat as Castiel lets his grace float around them, not in a shape but a flood of bright rays.</p><p>He stretches, his wings uncurling from his back, the only part of him that isn’t just pure white, but colourful. Like the oil stain on a summer’s day on the asphalt, bright with the colours of the rainbow under the light. His wings shine the same way, every time he moves them, the gush of wind and sound of crackling like thunder accompanying it, they are yellow and orange and red, then he shuffles them, and it’s blue, green and white, he moves again and it's pink, purple and black. </p><p>“You’re beautiful.” Dean says, his voice is so small, just like he is, beneath Castiel, staring around him, lost in all the grace that seeks to wrap Dean in it, like Castiel’s very being aches to be close to him, close to his soul.</p><p>He can see it, Dean’s soul beneath his chest, pulsing in the white of a pearl and black of tar, almost reaching out to collide with his grace.</p><p>Castiel’s wings shutter momentarily, and he moves his grace, the white sparkling here and there and making Dean squint his eyes.</p><p>He can hear the breaths and the way Dean’s pulse quickens when he opens his mouth again. “It’s like looking at starlight.” </p><p>Castiel would smile, would he be in his vessel, he would pull Dean in and kiss him breathless, let the grace in him surround them, hugging tight, and then dissolve. Clinging to hope that if it’s gone, if he’s not him anymore, Dean would still look at him and see it.</p><p>See the starlight.</p><p>Castiel looks down at the human, Dean Winchester, speaking of starlight and beauty and he thinks that maybe heavenly doesn’t mean heaven-made or heaven-touched. Maybe heavenly is <em>this</em>.</p><p>A man, in Heaven’s bounds, looking up at an Angel not with piety or fear, but with devout determination to make him understand - beautiful, however flawed. </p><p>Dean Winchester is heavenly. </p><p>Castiel speaks, careful to be as soft as his grace allows him, but Dean doesn’t flinch back, almost as if they are speaking through mind and not words carried out in the space between them.</p><p>
  <em>If I am starlight, then you are the Galaxy.</em>
</p><p>Dean’s mouth curls into a smile, his eyes shine but of what, Cas can’t be sure - unshed tears or the mere reflection of his grace? </p><p>The hunter’s hands shake on his sides, balling up into fists, but the smile on his face is still there, crooked but still as lovely as ever.</p><p>“Would you get down here? I can’t imagine kissing something like a bucket-full of sunlight can be healthy or even possible. And that’s what I wanna do now.” </p><p>Castiel’s grace pushes at the seams of his existence, it shatters and sparkles and then, he lets it flow. </p><p>Dean’s eyes are on him. “I’m here. I’m always gonna be here.” </p><p>It’s an encouragement. Dean knows what Castiel’s grace means to him. He knows and he’s there for him. There for the Angel about to be stripped naked from his powers, the one thing that makes him who he is.</p><p>Dean is there for him and telling him that he is still Cas. Still Castiel, the angel who fell for Dean Winchester.</p><p>Castiel lets go. </p><p>It’s almost like watching sand or water slip through his fingers on a deserted beach, watching it go back to where it came from in the first place, be apart of nature once more.</p><p>The only thing he can do is to keep it, the small amount of it, in his fingertips so he can fulfil on his promise to take them back to Earth. </p><p>He doesn’t feel pain - the grace leaves him voluntarily and he suspects that Jack’s has some pull here as well, making it as painless for him as possible, for which he is grateful. </p><p>The light flickers, in a million colours, more than the human eye can decipher, and Dean shields his eyes for a moment, when there is a flooding of it like a small explosion without the catastrophic consequences. </p><p>Just a white light, bursting and falling away, leaving him standing in his vessel once more.</p><p>He is Castiel, human. </p><p>Dean takes one careful step towards him, unsure, tentatively reaching out his hand, shaky fingers cradling the side of Castiel’s face. </p><p>Castiel leans into it, it’s warm and welcoming and for once, no one is dying. No one is on the brink of death, to insinuate such gentleness. </p><p>It’s all Dean and all Cas, and he steps towards him, hands going to clutch Dean’s elbow gently. </p><p>Dean’s fingers brush over his cheekbone and then, he leans in, forehead going against Cas, the ragged breath released is of relief. The green eyes close and Castiel decides to close his as well, the grace that’s left humming in his fingertips, hot where he touches Dean. </p><p>“You’re beautiful. Always have been, always will.” </p><p>The words are soft, almost lost in the space around them, would they not be so close. The closeness is something Castiel has longed for as long as he can remember his time around Dean and his soul. With a jolt he realizes, he won’t ever be able to see it again. </p><p>With a relaxation of his muscles he realizes it won’t matter. He knows Dean, like Dean knows him. Like Dean said. Like Cas once said.</p><p>
  <em>Still beautiful.</em>
</p><p>Castiel longs to press his mouth against Dean’s. See if the curve of it fits with his own, if they would slot together like two puzzle pieces or would they be clumsy and everything he ever hoped for.</p><p>But when Dean’s eyes open, glinting with hope and a sense of calm, Castiel raises his fingers to his temple, the grace flowing and pulling at them both, destination clear in Cas’ mind.<br/>
When they stand on the ground, Dean’s breath slightly knocked out of his lungs (for which Castiel plans to apologize), it’s mid-day, sun shining onto the abandoned playground like nothing has happened. Like no time has passed since he was last here.</p><p>His fingertips pulse painfully as soon as the grace realizes it’s on the Earth, pulled from it’s Heavenly home, from the Angel it cradled, and Castiel takes a small vial from the pocket of the trenchcoat.</p><p>He is not even slightly surprised that it was there. He can thank Jack for that, he supposes.</p><p>As soon as it’s in his hands, Dean is next to him. Castiel stares up at him, inclining his head and Dean takes out the knife in his jacket. </p><p>Once again, they don’t question how or why it is there. </p><p>Castiel doesn’t wince, when Dean cuts a slight line on his forefinger, but he can see that Dean does. </p><p>It makes his heart swell, that Dean is worried for him. </p><p>The grace flows into the vial, the substance calm once it’s confounded into the glass walls.</p><p>Castiel picks it up, lifting it to his eyes and letting the sunlight shine through, making it sparkle. He can never feel it flow through him again, and he finds that that’s okay.</p><p>He’s made peace with that. </p><p>Dean’s hands cradle his, the one with the cut, and carefully wipe at the blood there. He doesn’t hesitate, takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wraps it clumsily but gently around Castiel’s finger.</p><p>He’s human now. He will bleed and he will mend. He will get wounds and they will heal. And if they won’t, Dean would be there, to patch him up.</p><p>He lets the grace in the vial slip into his own pocket, before his attention goes back to Dean, who is still holding his hand softly, even though the finger is now securely wrapped. </p><p>Castiel lets his other free hand go to Dean’s jaw, raising his chin to look at him.</p><p><em>Dean Winchester</em>, Castiel wants to say. <em>You are Heavenly.</em></p><p>He can’t say anything, it would seem, he can feel his throat closed up. Can feel the throbbing of his fingertip where it was cut, can feel his knees shaking along with his hands. The humane feelings flood him so quickly, it’s hard to not be overwhelmed.</p><p>So he focuses on the green in Dean’s eyes. Focuses on the fleck of gold in the right one and on the eyelashes that flutter as Dean gazes back. Focuses on moving his hand from Dean’s jaw to his cheek, thumb stroking across the cheekbone.</p><p>Dean’s hands still clutch at Cas’ other hand. There’s little to no space between them now.</p><p>“Cas-” it’s a breath, falling out of Dean’s mouth, more a prayer than anything Castiel has ever heard, more of a promise he’s ever made and more, more than anything he’s ever witnessed.</p><p>He leans in, touching his lips to Dean’s in a split second. </p><p>Dean’s mouth seeks him like he’s a drowning man in the desert.</p><p>They crash and it’s more than just pure starlight, it’s a supernova. </p><p>Heavenly humane. </p><p>Castiel’s hand is still cradling Dean’s cheek, moves to his jaw, the other has been released by Dean’s hands in favor of grabbing Castiel by the front of his jacket, so Castiel moves the ever so slightly injured hand around Dean’s waist in an effort to pull him closer.</p><p>He wants closer, closer, so close there’s no telling where he starts and where Dean ends.</p><p>Dean’s lips on his are wet and soft and warm, his own are chapped against them, but Dean’s sweeps his tongue over them and it’s made better. </p><p>Castiel’s heart is beating so painfully, it’s unbearable. It hurts, in such a sweet way, he’s not sure if he can take it.</p><p>He could fall, fall to his knees and take Dean with him, combust into the light he used to be, embracing them both in the sweet sensational bubble they’ve created in the abandoned playground.</p><p>Dean hums against him, content and Castiel feels a smile tug at his lips, it’s a new feeling and soon, Dean’s smiling too.</p><p>They smile against each other's lips, Dean’s hands moving everywhere, around his waist, around his shoulders, settling on his face and then on Cas’ jacket again, crawling under it to get to the warmth. It’s like he doesn’t know how to settle his arms - or he doesn’t want to.</p><p>Castiel laughs, when Dean kisses him again, clashing their teeth together.</p><p>“You idiot, I’m trying to kiss you.” </p><p>Castiel laughs again, when Dean scowls, but the small smirk on his face is so evident. </p><p>“I know,” Cas says, which is also evident, but Dean chuckles and Cas continues. “We have time.” </p><p>And Dean, his eyes on Cas gentle, full of hope and full of everything Cas hoped they would one day be, rests his hands, finally, around Castiel’s middle, embracing and pulling him towards his own body.</p><p>Against Cas’ forehead, he repeats as a whisper, “We have time.”</p><p>And Castiel makes sure the next kiss stretches said time into an eternity.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What's up my fellow Yees and Haws!??</p><p>Long time no see. I wanted to write a fic where Dean sees Cas' true form, and this is my version of it. I know, probably not what you expected, but I guess we all have our own understanding of what Castiel's true form looks like. Ain't no harm in that. </p><p>If you liked this, please lemme know, I feed on comments and criticism. </p><p>You can also find me on:<br/>Instagram: warmthofrain<br/>Twitter: rain_warmth<br/>Wattpad: WarmthOfRain<br/>Tumblr: malecbaby</p><p>Peace out, bitches! *throws peace signs*</p></blockquote></div></div>
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